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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253025">i keep you in my memories</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marzipan_bubbles/pseuds/tyche'>tyche (marzipan_bubbles)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>An extreme game of tag but from an observer's point of view, Arguing about reputations, Arguing in general, Betrayal and deception, Breaking the fourth wall and seeing your daughter's past life, Celebrating Birthdays (sort of), Cheesy exploration of hallura's backstory, Closure, Complaining about annoying coworkers, Dancing Lessons, Emotionally repressed friends with benefits, FFxivWrite, FFxivWrite2020, Family Bonding, Farming (i swear), Forgiveness, Grief and Guilt, Identity Issues, Literal self-reflection, Looking after a lover feat. lots of feelings, Love Confessions, More family bonding feat. our fav gunbreaker and oracle of light, More survivor guilt and regret, Multi, Near Death Experiences, OT3 aftercare, Proposal plans (sort of), Really intense self-loathing, Remember that annoying coworker? we care about him now, Scars, Self-Sacrifice, Survivor Guilt, Teleporting between worlds sucks, happy ffxivwrite everyone!, ring shopping shenanigans, spoilers for patch 5.3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:15:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26253025</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marzipan_bubbles/pseuds/tyche</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>hallura promises herself that she'll be smiling when she dies.</p><p>uses prompts from FFXIVWrite2020!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alphinaud Leveilleur &amp; Warrior of Light, Ardbert &amp; Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Artoirel de Fortemps &amp; Warrior of Light, Aymeric de Borel &amp; Estinien Wyrmblood, Aymeric de Borel/G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Azem &amp; Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Azem/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Emmanellain de Fortemps &amp; Warrior of Light, Fray Myste &amp; Warrior of Light, G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light, Ilberd Feare &amp; Warrior of Light, Lyse Hext &amp; Warrior of Light, Ryne | Minfilia &amp; Thancred Waters, Ryne | Minfilia &amp; Warrior of Light, Sidurgu Orl/Warrior of Light, Tataru Taru &amp; Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light &amp; Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light &amp; Thancred Waters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. crux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>crux (n): an essential point requiring resolution or resolving an outcome</p><p>set during seventh-astral era; grahallura if you squint</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"This is ridiculous."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It's not ridiculous."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hallura, it's a simple decision!" Tataru rubs her forehead with one hand, before fixing Hallura with a glare. "Gold or silver?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Warrior of Light, much to Tataru's annoyance, does not answer. Instead, Hallura continues to dither, balancing one silver and one gold band in each hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least the rubies had been easy enough to pick out. And so far Hallura has chosen reasonable prices. Tataru supposes she can cut Hallura some slack for that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tries again. "Gods, Hallura, you're acting like this decision will change your life. Surely the metal won't make that much of a difference?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"It will to me," Hallura mutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tataru tries not to roll her eyes. There are important things to be done - Minfilia might need her back at the Rising Stones soon...but Hallura is a friend, and a good one too; time can be spared for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well...I think gold looks quite lovely on your skin," Tataru ventures, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning forward, trying to quell her impatience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hallura's back straightens. "Oh, no...the ring isn't for me."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Not for you..? ...Oh." Tataru blinks in surprise. "It's a gift?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her friend offers her a small smile out of the corner of her eye. "You could say that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A gift! But for whom? Tataru feels suddenly giddy, impatience forgotten. "Oh, but you can't leave me hanging! Who is it for? A friend? Family? A secret paramour?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the onslaught of questions, Hallura chuckles. "You don't seem to mind my indecision anymore," she notes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tataru thinks she might jump in excitement. "Well now that you've </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>me I understand! But you didn't answer my question!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hallura just laughs again, and there's something different in her voice when she says, "If this goes right, you'll find out who it is very soon."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Very soon? What do you mean?" Tataru insists, holding out her hands as if to receive the answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Hallura just smiles down at the rings in her hands, and Tataru can see that her questions could not be further from Hallura's mind.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. sway</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>sway (n): a controlling influence</p><p>post ryne-veal; if anything happened to ryne hallura would kill everyone in the room and then herself</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“A-ha! I knew we’d find you out here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hallura jumps in surprise, dropping her pencil on the wooden platform of the lookout tower. “Thancred! I - I wasn’t expecting you,” she exclaims, trying not to look too guilty. She turns and sees that he is accompanied by the Oracle of Light herself - Ryne.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think I believe that? You’re supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>resting</span>
  </em>
  <span> right now.” Thancred’s scolding is exasperated. He marches over, and Ryne scurries after him. “Care to tell us how you found your way from your bed at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pendants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the tallest watchtower in the Crystarium?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I do, will I still be in trouble?” Hallura chuckles, closing her journal and slowly scooting back from where she sits at the edge of the platform. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“With me? No. With </span>
  <em>
    <span>her?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thancred points at Ryne. “You’d better find out for yourself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, of course.” Hallura dips her head towards Ryne. “Well then, Ryne - what’s your verdict? Am I in trouble?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ryne looks between Hallura and Thancred, before silently approaching Hallura. She reaches out and places her hand against Hallura’s forehead, closing her eyes. Hallura smiles, closing her eyes too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A heartbeat passes, before Ryne makes a concerned humming sound. "Unfortunately, yes," she tells Hallura, pulling her hand away. She tucks her hair behind her ear. "Your aether is still unstable - it's not much better than when we returned from Amh Araeng."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I feel fine," Hallura sulks, exaggerating a frown. She pauses, before admitting, "I'm just...chilly, sometimes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"That's not good, Hallura," Ryne chides, folding her hands together. She leans forward, and Hallura realizes with fond frustration that she's trying to hold eye contact. "Won't you go back to your rooms to rest? Please?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hallura bites the inside of her cheek, trying and failing to resist Ryne's heartfelt plea. She lets out a puff of air, before smiling defeatedly at Ryne. "Very well," she says with resignment, gathering up her writing things and rising to her feet. "If you insist."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ryne beams up at her, eyes full of clear relief. "Really?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You asked me nicely," Hallura laughs. She reaches out to pat Ryne on the head. "Besides, what kind of role model would I be for you if I refused to take care of myself?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ryne </span>
  </em>
  <span>can inspire you to go rest, but when </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>ask, you just get more stubborn?" Thancred complains, though the mirth in his voice betrays his amusement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Maybe I just like Ryne more than you," Hallura snorts, before pulling Ryne into a bear hug. Ryne giggles, clinging back to Hallura's arm with a grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I'm wounded." Thancred rolls his eyes, but crosses his arms and smiles as Hallura frees Ryne from her embrace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Come on then," Hallura says, taking Ryne's hand in hers. "You both can walk me back to my room." With a squeeze of Ryne's hand, she adds, "Thancred, you too."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thancred blanches, but when Ryne holds a shy hand out towards him, he smiles and takes it in his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Anything for Ryne, </span>
  </em>
  <span>says his smile, and Hallura wholeheartedly agrees.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. muster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>muster (v): to bring together; to call forth</p><p>tw for blood and almost death! post-final steps of faith; hallura tries the drk invuln</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Fray," she calls, and she says it like a prayer.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Here,</strong> they answer - a hazy smear of black against a pale blue sky.</p><p> </p><p>"Fray," she repeats, turning from her side to her back. The taste in her mouth is acrid. "What does it feel like to die?"</p><p> </p><p><strong>Do you think you are dying?</strong> they ask. At the edges, they flicker in and out of existence.</p><p> </p><p>"I don't know," she gasps. She paints the ground red with every breath, a sticky, hot crimson she can touch but not see. "I've never died before."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Maybe you have - maybe you've just forgotten.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>"Maybe," she agrees. She is so tired. "Normally I - I'd just walk it off."</p><p> </p><p><strong>Have you the strength to stand?</strong> they whisper, and it is an invitation.</p><p> </p><p>She closes her eyes - or perhaps she doesn't. The world is losing its color, her fingers do not feel, her tongue does not taste.</p><p> </p><p>"Not by myself," she says. "Not this time."</p><p> </p><p>She turns her head to find them, searching for an anchor with her fading gaze, and finds one in fiery eyes the color of her blood.</p><p> </p><p><strong>Then allow me,</strong> they say; there is a vicious smile wrapped around the words.</p><p> </p><p>Her struggling heart beats just once before they lunge towards her, phantom claws outstretched.</p><p> </p><p><em> "Thank you," </em> she says with her last breath - and everything succumbs to flame.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. clinch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>clinch (v): to assure the winning of; to make final or irrefutable</p>
<p>follow-up to "muster"; aymeric might not care for living dead but he does care for hallura - a lot more than expected</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hands, gentle and comforting, wrapped around her own. Rhythmic breathing; a familiar tempo she knows but can’t name. Silky sheets, a crackling hearth, an ache in her bones and the lingering touch of healing magic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is how Hallura wakes - to the realities of her body and a warm bed, to the sounds of home and the touch of someone who cares.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Evening light, mellow and calming, greets her weary gaze (how long has she been asleep?); motes of dust float through the air, traveling down, down, down with the rays of sun. It is surreal and beautiful, and she is struck with an urge to reach up and touch them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tries - and the twitch of her fingers alerts her bedside companion. There is a gasp, a squeeze of her hand, and she labors to turn her head to discover who has kept her company.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re awake,” breathes Aymeric, and she is awed to see tears in his eyes. “You’re awake,” he repeats, bowing his head and drawing her hand to his forehead, clasped between his palms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m awake,” she echoes, and speaking has never felt so taxing. Her mind, at odds with her awakening, struggles to comprehend his sorrow, but she can feel his skin against hers - perhaps she doesn’t need to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He lets out a laugh, and it sounds watery to her addled ears. Slowly, he raises his eyes to hers, and the tears have spilled over, tracking diamonds down his cheeks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We feared you would never wake up,” Aymeric says, so that she might begin to understand. “You came to us, cold as death and bled half-dry - the chirugeons said the damage might be beyond repair.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At the fringes of her memory, Hallura can recall this: numbness and pain, dragging feet; the burning need to press on, press on. She grimaces, out of pain and out of shame, shame that he should have to see her weakness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Warm hands squeeze again; he shakes his head. “You fought for us,” he reminds her, gaze earnest. “You fought and <em> won </em> for us, and for that we are freed from our history of hate.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I almost failed,” she manages, unable to hide her own disappointment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But you didn’t,” he insists, and his voice carries a different note. “You gave everything you had for us. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If she could shake her head, she would. Instead, she offers a smile and a weak squeeze of her own.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aymeric's face changes - it cracks, and words pour from his lips like water through a broken dam. “There’s...there’s something else. Something I must confess to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She has no time to respond - the words continue to flow. She is swept up in his current, in the desperate haste which has suddenly overcome him. “When you were...when I saw you like that on the bridge, and I saw what you had sacrificed for us, I realized how foolish I was. How foolish I have been.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All this time,” he tells her, really <em> tells </em> her, “I have been lying to myself - and lying to you. I believed us to be a passing fancy, something we would both outgrow - but I looked at you on the bridge and finally understood what it might mean to live in a world without you, and I knew then that I did not want to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Deep in her chest, a low ache stirs, not of muscle or bone - of feeling, of yearning. Things she has forced down begin to bubble up; she bites her lip to stop them from running over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That which we share now is bliss,” continues Aymeric, fresh tears welling in his eyes. “But I wish to share more with you - I would see the world through your eyes, cherish your passion for what is right. I would see your hopes and dreams uplifted...and I would be at your side to help you reach them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A confession, it is a confession. Everything crescendos - his touch, his voice, the beating of her heart - and then freezes, halting between them. Her gaze is locked into his, transfixed and terrified. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hallura,” he murmurs (she loves how he says her name). </p>
<p> </p>
<p>With all the strength she can muster, she tugs her hand from his grasp to place her hand against the curve of his cheek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you,” she finishes for him, thumbing over hot tears. The sensation of his heart against her fingertips makes her own eyes sting, makes them blur with emotion. “I love you, Aymeric.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It is an admission which breaks every rule she’s set for herself, every boundary and every promise to protect her heart.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And yet, she thinks this time it might not matter, as Aymeric laughs, leans into her touch, and says softly,</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love you, too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. matter of fact</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>matter of fact (n): something that belongs to the sphere of fact as distinct from opinion or conjecture</p><p>set in ala gannha; two displaced children wonder about who they really are</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hallura finds Lyse sitting at the edge of the river, running a hand absent-mindedly through the water. She calls Lyse’s name once, and the blonde woman acknowledges her arrival with a turn of her head.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t seem happy,” Hallura says, walking up to Lyse and sitting down beside her. Behind them, the lights of Ala Gannha begin to flicker out, signaling the lateness of the hour.</p><p> </p><p>Lyse laughs, a dejected, frustrated sound. “I don’t even think I could <em> pretend </em> to be happy right now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Want to talk about it?” Hallura asks, leaning back on her hands and gazing skyward. The stars twinkle as if to listen to their conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Her friend sighs, flicking water from her fingers. “I’m not sure it would make sense if I explained it.”</p><p> </p><p>Hallura shrugs. “Try me.”</p><p> </p><p>Lyse hesitates, rubbing the side of her neck. She looks at Hallura and then the ground, before letting out a puff of air. “Ah, what the hell. You ever...do you ever get disappointed? You know, about...about being Ala Mhigan."</p><p> </p><p>"As in disappointed to <em> be </em>Ala Mhigan?" </p><p> </p><p>"Yes - sort of? No, maybe not...I don't know. I just...sometimes I feel fake." Lyse sighs again. "Coming here - I guess I thought it might feel sort of like coming home. But...the people don't want us here. I can't help feeling like I don't belong - and then I wonder if I ever did."</p><p> </p><p>"Mm." Hallura closes her eyes and remains silent for a moment. The sound of water fills the air in place of their voices. "I understand. Probably more than you think."</p><p> </p><p>"How do you move past it?" Lyse asks, frustration seeping back into her voice. "I feel so stuck."</p><p> </p><p>"Honestly, Lyse?" Hallura opens her eyes and rolls her head to face Lyse. "I'm not past it."</p><p> </p><p>Lyse's back straightens in surprise. "Really?"</p><p> </p><p>"Really." Hallura's fingers find a tiny pebble, and she picks it up. "I've spent years carving out a place for myself in other homes - Limsa, Ishgard, the Scions - while always believing in the back of my mind that I belonged somewhere else. I always believed that I belonged in Ala Mhigo."</p><p> </p><p>She turns the pebble over in her hand, admiring the way it seems to glow in the moonlight. "I guess I thought I would just be accepted, if the day ever came that I could return home."</p><p> </p><p>"That's exactly it," exclaims Lyse, throwing her hands up. "That's exactly how I feel. Why is it that we're not accepted? Aren't we just as Ala Mhigan as them?"</p><p> </p><p>"We are...and we aren't." Hallura thumbs the pebble once, before tossing it gently into the river. </p><p> </p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p> </p><p>"We were only children, when everything fell. I was eight - you must have been five? Six? Both barely old enough to understand the world we'd been born into." Hallura fights a sigh, instead letting out a long breath through her nose. "We barely knew Ala Mhigo before the world swept us up and dropped us somewhere else." </p><p> </p><p>"That's hardly our fault," Lyse mutters. </p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s not,” Hallura agrees. “But since Ilberd turned on us at the banquet...I wondered if that might be how others feel, too. If they would reject me, because I was trying to represent something they didn’t recognize.”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess...I never thought about it.” Lyse puts her chin in her hand. “Too busy being consumed with being Yda, maybe.” Then she laughs, hanging her head and shaking it. “Of course. ‘Representing something they didn’t recognize’ - maybe that’s why this stings. They’d have loved to see Yda - less so me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe. Doesn’t make it right.” Hallura picks up another rock and throws it into the stream, sparing a thought to wonder where the river will deposit its two newest passengers. “I know how you feel, Lyse. It’s not fair that you’ve been rejected before even getting a chance to prove yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Lyse looks up to the stars. “Yeah, you could say that again.” </p><p> </p><p>“Trust me, I probably will.” Hallura sits upright and follows Lyse’s eyes to the heavens. “But no matter what anyone tells you, you <em> are </em> Ala Mhigan. If that’s who you choose to be, then it’s the truth.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s hard to believe myself sometimes,” Lyse says quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Hallura smiles softly, gaze coming to rest on the stars of the Arrow. “Then I’ll help believe for you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. scar (free day)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>scar (n): a mark remaining (as on the skin) after injured tissue has healed; a lasting moral or emotional injury</p><p>tw for vague descriptions of old injuries; i have no excuses, my friend gave me this prompt for free day and i was like "ok"</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Exarch counts ten new marks on the Warrior's body as she sheds her clothing in her room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>("New"...to him, perhaps. To a part of him that shouldn't exist anymore.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There are probably more. More that he doesn't catch - or more that he doesn't see before he catches himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With haste, he slams his staff against the floor of the Occular, erasing the image of the Pendants apartment from the mirror face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would that it could erase the image from his mind as well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ten, he thinks. Ten times she has bled for something, somewhere, someone, but for who? And when?  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dangerous thoughts, which he knows better than to entertain. He thinks anyways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Surely one must be from her encounter with Nidhogg. He knows that story well - Lord Edmont of House Fortemps had documented the fate which nearly befell the Warrior and her recovery in detail. If he had to guess, he would pick the large, almost star-shaped mark over her left hip as the wound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A set of three parallel lines on her right forearm - a testament to her battle against the yol of Bardam's Mettle. What a story that had been, he recalls, passed down through generation after generation of struggling Steppe survivors, until it finally slipped into his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Across the top of her left breast, a narrow stripe of healed skin which could only come from the blade of a sword. Perhaps the result of her first battle against Zenos yae Galvus of the Garlean Empire, during the sacking of Rhalgr's Reach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is a divet in her right bicep, which he suspects might be an injury she received fighting Arbert in his misguided attempt to save the First. Somehow, one of her letters had survived the Calamity, and the Exarch remembers how he had poured over it as though it were a holy grail, finding selfish solace in her writing and the way she had complained of the damage to a friend whose name was long forgotten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twin burn marks, twisting down her back. Delicate and precise in a way that burn marks rarely are, he believes them to be the work of the Far Eastern Lord Suzaku. They must have been painful, lashed into her flesh and then seared into her skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beneath her ribcage, on the right, a jagged, circular lesion that can only be a bullet wound. He does not know the story behind this one; it embarasses him that he does not know, then shames him further as he thinks about how he doesn’t need to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The greatest damage, however, no longer remains to be seen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(In the markets one evening, Alisaie had asked the Warrior about her hair, as the Exarch had turned his mirror’s gaze to her side.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I lost it in a fight with Zenos,” the Warrior had said. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How?” Alisaie had gasped.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I was vulnerable. He tried to take my head. I’m lucky he only took my hair.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They all know the Warrior has never been vulnerable - not by her own choice.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ten times has the world changed her, somewhere he could not intervene, save once </span>
  <em>
    <span>(and his intervention had cost her anyway).</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She is a different person now, just as he is, and each new mark upon her skin serves as a reminder. After all, he thinks, eyes falling to rest on his own crystallized arm, he has been touched by grief in his own right; he is hardly unblemished.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, there is an ache in his chest, in a place he didn’t believe existed to hurt anymore, and he closes his eyes to allow one final, painful thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(He has never been there to protect her, and even if it is to save her, he will only hurt her himself in the end.)</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. nonagenarian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>nonagenarian (n): a person whose age is in the nineties</p><p>unspecified evening in the pendants; ardbert and hallura are dumb himbos</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So just how old <em> are </em>you?” Hallura asks around a chunk of bread, tapping her spoon against her soup bowl.</p><p> </p><p>Ardbert gives her a look that’s too comical <em> not </em> to laugh at. She lets out an ugly snort-turned-choke sound, barely managing to cover her mouth in time to prevent herself from spitting out her food.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad I amuse you,” Ardbert mutters, but it’s good-natured. </p><p> </p><p>“As you should be.” Hallura wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before taking a sip of water. “Now are you going to answer my question?”</p><p> </p><p>“Does it matter how old I am?” her ghostly companion scoffs. “I died over a century ago, by now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, how old were you <em> then?” </em></p><p> </p><p>He rolls his eyes at her. “You’re really not letting this one go, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Hallura shrugs, shoveling another spoon of soup into her mouth. “I like to know things about my friends. Besides, you’re the one hanging around <em> me. </em> I’d say I have a right to a question here and there.”</p><p> </p><p>Ardbert just looks at her, eyes narrowed like he’s scrutinizing her. She just holds his gaze while she keeps eating, waiting for him to reply; eventually, he sighs and gives in, shuffling over from the window to stand beside her at the table.</p><p> </p><p>“I think...I <em> think </em> I was thirty. Or maybe thirty-one. Somewhere around there.”</p><p> </p><p>“That would make you a hundred thirty-one now, then,” Hallura says. “Simple math. Was that really so hard?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not the adding that bothers me,” Ardbert chuckles. “How would <em> you </em> like to be told you’re one hundred and thirty-one?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm. I see your point.” Hallura puts down her spoon and taps her chin. “We can pretend you’re younger if you want.”</p><p> </p><p>“‘Pretend I’m younger?’ What are you on about?” He looks at her and laughs, as if she’s got something ridiculous on her face.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m serious! We can pretend that you’re younger, yeah? If it makes you feel better?” She grins up at him. "We could say you're just a hundred."</p><p> </p><p>"Gods, no." Ardbert presses a hand to his forehead. "Just the sound of it…"</p><p> </p><p>"True, but you're still too old to be thirty." </p><p> </p><p>"I appreciate that," Ardbert says sarcastically.</p><p> </p><p>"Could add your age to mine," Hallura offers. "I'm almost twenty-nine. Twenty-nine plus thirty-one makes a nice round sixty!"</p><p> </p><p>"Is it possible that you're getting worse at this?" Ardbert laughs. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't see <em> you </em>suggesting any numbers," she retorts, pointing a finger at him. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't see why <em> you </em>want to give me one," Ardbert fires back, and though his tone is humorous Hallura can sense the deep sorrow behind it. </p><p> </p><p>"It will mean something to me," she tells him honestly, dropping her playful veneer and closing her eyes. "I want to give back the years that were taken from you. You deserve to have them, somehow."</p><p> </p><p>When she opens her eyes again, Ardbert is looking down at his feet, expression unreadable. She wishes she could reach out and take his hand. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn't answer her. Hallura wonders for a moment if he'll vanish on her again - too overwhelmed by the sentiment. She doesn't blame him.</p><p> </p><p>"Ninety-two."</p><p> </p><p>Hallura perks up. "Ninety-two?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah. Ninety-two." Ardbert turns to her and flashes a lopsided grin. "When I was a boy my father told me a story about the oldest Hume he ever knew who lived to ninety-one, and I bet him I could outlive him and make it to ninety-two."</p><p> </p><p>Hallura beams at him. She snaps her fingers and points at him, happily stating, "Ninety-two years old it is, then!"</p><p> </p><p>Ardbert smiles back at her, and she can feel the depth of his emotions like they were her own when she looks into his eyes. "You know, it still sounds terrible."</p><p> </p><p>"It's terrible and it's yours," she replies, picking up her cup and raising it to toast him. "Happy ninety-second birthday, Ardbert."</p><p> </p><p>He raises an eyebrow. "And it's my birthday now too?"</p><p> </p><p>"Your second birthday," Hallura affirms. "We can celebrate both birthdays if you'd like. But I'll remember this one as the day you were born again."</p><p> </p><p>She takes a sip of her water. "Born again at ninety-two, of course."</p><p> </p><p>Ardbert shakes his head, and his eyes are full of mirth. "Very well," he agrees, and he thumps a hand against his chest. "Happy ninety-second birthday to me!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. clamor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>clamor (n): noisy shouting</p>
<p>post-5.3; there's no way anyone could sleep through that</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>G'raha awakes to the sound of something shattering. He blinks his eyes slowly, before his ears register the sound of shouting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura's shouting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah!" The fog of sleep lifts, chased away by a rush of fear. He stumbles out of his bed, nearly tripping in his sheets; for a moment he considers armoring up, but when another crash resounds through the door he decides bare feet and sleep clothes will have to do.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With his staff in hand, he throws open the door, scanning the hall wildly for the threat which must be rampaging through the Rising Stones. "Hallura! Are you -"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah, good morning, G'raha," Thancred greets him nonchalantly, materializing out of nowhere and patting him on the shoulder. G'raha jumps about a fulm in the air before he regains his wits.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Good morning - I heard Hallura shouting," he says, confused at Thancred's indifference. Had he imagined the ruckus..?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, you heard her alright," Thancred confirms. He points across the hall of the Rising Stones, and G'raha follows with his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If a behemoth could fit into the hall, G'raha would think one might have trampled right through. Tables and chairs have been knocked over, and at least one wooden divider has cracks in it. There's a planter teetering precariously on its pedestal, and a concerning trail of fabric weaving between the mess. It also looks as though someone has lost their weapon - a spear, cast haphazardly to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>G'raha blanches. "What on earth..?"  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It is then, with almost comedic timing, that he gets his answer. A tall, white-haired elf all but shoots out from behind one of the dividers still standing, and hot on his heels comes Hallura, hand raised as though she were wielding a weapon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You! Estinien! Get back here!" she shouts, and ah - G'raha realizes she must be chasing down none other than Estinien Wyrmblood, the famed Azure Dragoon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Seven hells - </span>
  <em>
    <span>no! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Leave me be!" The harried dragoon dodges to the left with a swiftness Hallura can't match. She skids after him, barely managing to catch herself from falling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What…" G'raha's mind is still too frazzled to connect the dots. "If I may ask...why is she...chasing him?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"She wants to braid his hair," answers Alisaie, who sallies up from the corner of G'raha's eye. He peers closer at the Warrior of Light, and sure enough there is a comb in her grip. "Something about a favor she owed him. I don't think he particularly cares for how she intends to return it, though."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If it weren't for the absurdity of the situation G'raha thinks he might be jealous. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There is no time for jealousy, however, as he watches Estinien leap onto and off of a table to try and escape Hallura's attempt at gratitude. He is more nimble than she by far, but she is more determined to get her way than he is to flee, and G'raha watches, dumbstruck, as she all but launches herself after Estinien. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Oof!"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Gah!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They collide ungracefully in the air, tumbling down to the floor of the Rising Stones and rolling together until they stop just a short ways in front of G'raha, Thancred, and Alisaie.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>G'raha's eyes go wide with shock, and he rushes closer to inspect the damage. "Are you alright?!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Estinien just heaves a breath, sounding winded, and remains panting on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Ugh," says Hallura, pushing herself up on one arm. Her gaze flits up to G'raha's; she flashes him a dazzling, if not dazed, grin - he tries not to flush. "I'm spectacular," she answers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then she flicks her arm out over Estinien, summoning forth aetherial chains to bind the downed dragoon to herself. She clenches her fist, tightening the bonds, before huffing out, "Got you," and falling back to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It's utterly ridiculous - she practically turned over the whole of the Stones for such a simple thing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But it's utterly Hallura - and G'raha's heart swells as he falls in love with her just a little bit more.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. lush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lush (adj): growing vigorously, especially with luxuriant foliage; appealing to the senses</p>
<p>many, many years before arr; hallura arrives in limsa lominsa</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>"Child!"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She dimly notes the frantic sound of running feet approaching from behind, but it is almost drowned out by the whisper of grass, leaves, and golden wheat swaying in the wind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Are you listening to me?! We woke to find you gone...have you nothing to say for yourself?!"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She can't answer, too transfixed by green fields that stretch over rolling hills as far as her eye can see. Farmers quietly tend the land in the distance, planting and tilling and watering the earth. Birds chatter through the skies, circling over trees laden with fruit she's never even seen before.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beyond the hills, dawn light dances over the water, glimmering like a sea of crystals. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So far fetched from the arid mountains of her Ala Mhigan homeland, or her refuge in the hot wastes of Thanalan desert. This thriving landscape is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All of this, she thinks, all of this just outside her cold, damp prison cell. A whole world, brimming with life and color - and she almost died before she could see it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There are so many others who will never see it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Puyami, Silver...V'heeru and V'kaavo. Dead, and for what? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Girl, are you listening?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> The frustrated voice of her caretaker breaks into her thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Can you even hear me?"</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I had no idea there was so much green left in the world," is all she can say, eyes brimming over with tears. "And now I'm the only one who will ever know."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. avail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>avail (v):  to be of use or advantage</p><p>spoilers!!! takes place during 5.3 trial; perhaps maybe a companion to 'nameless'</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Emet-selch! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is no response - only the humming of the lifestream. You try again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hades!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It should not be possible for you to find him, here at the end of ends. It should not be possible for you to even call his name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And yet, as you stir to life in your champion's grasp, you remember blissfully that miracles can happen after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You call once more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hades!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he is coming to you, hazy and soft, an ethereal entity - somehow overcoming the current of the lifestream which he always held so dear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hades,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you tell him, and you reach with your phantom hands to hold the wisps of his soul. He is so fragile, so delicate between your fingers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I need you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It has been only a moment since your awakening, but you know who you are. You know what has become of you - of your world - and you do not begrudge your fate. You know your comrades' fury, your successors’ determination, and the immeasurable weight of all their sorrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So many feelings in just a fraction of time - and there is somehow still room for your own elation, when steady, warm hands suddenly grasp your own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Come, Hades, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you whisper, already feeling yourself fade at the edges. You interlock your fingers reverently with his, knowing they will be the last thing you ever touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With what strength you have left, you find his eyes, glowing with every bit of joy you feel, and within them lies a promise - a promise that your wish will be fulfilled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You're not even sure if you still have a face he can see, but you think you smile all the same.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It is time to wake up.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. ultracrepidarian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ultracrepidarian (n): a person who expresses opinions on matters outside the scope of their knowledge or expertise</p><p>set during shb msq; hallura is not a certified scholar of any kind</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hallura throws her arms up in frustration. “Well, couldn’t I just <em> walk </em> through with them? Holding their hands, or something?”</p><p> </p><p>The Exarch presses his lips into a thin line. Patience and strength, he reminds himself - though frankly, he’s approaching his limit. Thus far he has barely managed to disguise his fluster every time Hallura is near, and for her to attempt to rectify his shortcomings (albeit unintentionally) is nothing short of mortifying.</p><p> </p><p>Alisaie is no help. The young woman raises an eyebrow and tilts her head at the Exarch in a knowing way that makes him want to shrink. “She has a point, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course I have a point,” says Hallura, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like you could have tried before calling me here. But I’m here now. Would that not work?” she asks, addressing the Exarch directly.</p><p> </p><p>She sounds genuinely certain of herself, and her assuredness is so very attractive...save for the fact that she has entirely missed the point.</p><p> </p><p>Clearing his throat, the Exarch attempts to clarify, straightening his back and doing his best to appear confident. “The issue is that they are separate beings, you see. Entities in and of themselves - albeit without physical form - and you are only able to traverse worlds with things which you consider belonging to you. I’m afraid an attempt to carry them through the rift with you would be doomed to failure - they wouldn’t even be able to breach the rift to begin with.”</p><p> </p><p>The room falls quiet, and Hallura fixes him with a pointed stare. He manages, miraculously, not to wilt under the intensity of her gaze.</p><p> </p><p>Then Hallura purses her lips. “I still think I should try.” </p><p> </p><p>Beneath his hood, the Exarch’s eyes go wide. Hallura turns away from him and offers a hand to Alisaie. “Alisaie, you come try with me.”</p><p> </p><p>The Exarch is utterly dumbstruck - and if he’s being honest with himself, a little enchanted. How long has it been since he was so blatantly ignored? </p><p> </p><p>(Was the last time with her, all those years ago? Faint memories of playful bickering and petty theft echo in his mind.)</p><p> </p><p>He is so flabbergasted that he can’t even intervene before Alisaie can accept Hallura’s offer; to his relief and embarrassment, Y’shtola seems to catch onto his stunned state and steps in on his behalf. </p><p> </p><p>“Hallura, dear, don’t you think you should leave the study of summoning to the scholars of our merry band?” the sorceress says smoothly, hands resting on her cane as if to punctuate her statement. “Or should I remind you of what happened the <em> last </em> time you took the arcane arts into your own hands?”</p><p> </p><p>The subtle barb finds its mark, and Hallura sighs, pouting. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>If the Exarch wasn’t trying his damndest to remain detached and aloof, he might ask what, exactly, Y’shtola means. In any case, he takes her intervention as an act of grace - perhaps he will thank her later.</p><p> </p><p>“Good. And I’m <em> sure </em> Alisaie agrees,” Y’shtola adds, sending a sharp glance towards the young lady. Alisaie shrugs; if she’s disappointed the Exarch can’t tell. “For now, let’s leave our fate in the hands of the one who brought us all here in the first place - no one understands it better than he.”</p><p> </p><p>Ah, thinks the Exarch, this time failing to cover up his blush as Hallura turns to look back at him. Perhaps he will not thank Y’shtola later after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. tooth and nail</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>tooth and nail (adv): with every available means </p>
<p>post royal menagerie; aymeric knows hallura gave her all</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aymeric closes the door behind him with a quiet sigh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He would gladly handle the affairs of the military over the affairs of state any day - but this day, he should have liked to handle nothing at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, his eyes adjust to the dimness of the room - the fire in the hearth has been reduced to a few glowing embers, and there are several candles burned away almost entirely. Armor has been thrown haphazardly across a chaid, and in the far corner of the room is a wooden tub with a cloth hanging over the side to dry. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Outside the windows, the celebratory cheers of the Alliance and their freed Ala Mhigan comrades are a distant hum, a constant noise that softens the silence which fills this quiet, secluded place. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It is peaceful, and Aymeric is glad.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With soft steps he moves to rekindle the fire - the room is beginning to chill. As fresh flames crackle to life, the space is illuminated just a little more, and as he turns he can better see the outline of the person sleeping in a worn wooden bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Today has been a long day for all, he thinks, but perhaps longest for her- for Hallura.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He approaches her, reaching down to brush a finger against the tattoo on her cheek. She does not stir - a testament to how hard she fought, and the toll her dedication has taken on her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In a way, Aymeric thinks this isolated corner is poor justice for her service to Eorzea. If he had any say, she would be seen to by the best of the Alliance’s healers, with a grand room and a plush bed and someone to wait on her every need. Gods know she deserves it. </span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Hallura had said no; save for the most cursory medical attention, she had sent the healers away and her allies to celebrate with the rest, before locking herself away in a tiny room to be alone with her pain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then again, he thinks, it is most likely for the best. The shadow lingering on her shoulders and the hollow, empty look in her eyes after her battle with Zenos - he would not want her to bear those things whilst being touted around for the public’s revelry. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And at least with this privacy, he has been able to sneak away to spend a precious few moments at her side. Aymeric gently caresses Hallura's face again, running a thumb over the arch of her eyebrow and twining his fingers in her hair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am so proud of you,” he whispers, knowing she won’t hear.  "You fought valiantly, and for that your people are free."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He leans down to kiss her temple, and at the warmth of his lips her brow unfurls just a hint - perhaps in her dreams his touch has given her some small comfort.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Piece by piece, he removes his own armor, stripping down to just his trousers so that he might rest beside her. Even though she sleeps, her arms stretch out as if she has been waiting to hold him all night long.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He will not be able to stay - this much Aymeric already knows. When dawn breaks, he will have to return to his duties, slipping away from her room before anyone notices he was ever gone. She will have to rise and face her demons alone. Such is the nature of their love, and it eats away at him that he cannot simply be there for her when she needs him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For now, though, he belongs to Hallura and Hallura alone. He pulls her close under the warmth of her blankets and tucks her head beneath his chin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The lines of her body are stiff and tense to his caress; Aymeric has memorized every bend and curve of her muscles, and tonight each speaks of the monumental toll her battles have taken upon her. Deep down, he fears for what else it may have cost her - consequences running deeper than flesh. But now is not the time for fears, he reminds himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reverently, he presses a kiss to her hair and closes his eyes. He will give her everything he can, and someday, he hopes it will be enough to replace all that she has lost.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. pugnacious (free day)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>pugnacious (adj): eager or quick to argue, quarrel, or fight</p><p>set during seventh astral era; there is one person that just Gets On Hallura's Nerves</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m going to throw him off a bridge,” says Hallura, rapping her fist against the wooden table.</p><p> </p><p>Thancred looks up with mild amusement, raising an eyebrow at her. “What did he do this time?”</p><p> </p><p>The Warrior of Light tilts her head at him and glares; her annoyance is palpable, but Thancred just finds it hilarious. “It was a serious question,” he says, holding up his hands in mock defense. “You’re not usually so…”</p><p> </p><p>She sits up and recoils. “I’m not usually what?”</p><p> </p><p>He considers his chances of surviving her wrath, and then decides it ultimately doesn’t matter. “You’re not usually so quick to anger,” he says with a shrug and a smirk. “Quick to act, maybe, but your temper just seems to flare up around young Alphinaud. I’ve lost track of how many times you’ve - ”</p><p> </p><p>“I take your point, Thancred.” Hallura rolls her eyes. “But really. Have you been <em> around </em> the last few weeks, or have you been off dallying with other damsels while that prissy brat bosses the Scions around?”</p><p> </p><p>“As far as I’m aware Alphinaud <em> is </em> a Scion,” he remarks, trying not to let out a snort. “Shouldn’t he have some say in how our organization is run?”</p><p> </p><p>“Some say, sure,” she retorts, “but hardly as much as he currently <em> has. </em> Gods, he’s dictating to people who are twice his damn age! And he treats them all like they’re good-for-nothing grunts.”</p><p> </p><p>She leans back in her chair and huffs. “You know, I’d be willing to bet that well-to-do little princeling has never walked a mile on his own feet in his entire life.”</p><p> </p><p>This time Thancred can’t help laughing out loud. “So he gave you errands to run, I take it?” Hallura gives him an extremely dry look. “A long list of errands,” he corrects himself, grinning.</p><p> </p><p>“Like you would not believe.” Every word is punctuated and sharp. She reaches across the table and pours herself some ale, holding eye contact with Thancred the whole while. “‘Travel to the Black Shroud and thrash about some moogles’; ‘acquire funds from a merchant in Ul’dah for an organization you aren’t part of’; ‘harass your friends at Camp Dragonhead about the supplies for Revenant’s Toll before we all starve’ - the list goes on.”</p><p> </p><p>“That does sound dreary,” he agrees, taking his own flagon in hand and throwing back the remains of his drink. </p><p> </p><p>Hallura grimaces into her cup. “It’s a waste of my time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now, now, surely our cause is worth a few aetheryte trips here and there.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s certainly worth a few - but I have my own life to attend to,” Hallura scoffs, “and this <em> infuriating </em> child seems to think that I am a glorified errand girl.”</p><p> </p><p>Thancred resists the urge to remind her that once upon a time she was, in fact, the Scions' glorified errand girl. Instead, he offers what he hopes is a consolation. “Would you like me to say something to him?”</p><p> </p><p>His companion simply smirks, sipping at her ale. “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’m more than capable of confronting him myself.”</p><p> </p><p>For a moment he blanches. “I hope you don’t <em> actually </em> intend to throw him off a bridge to get your point across.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm. I don’t know.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, pursing her lips as if pondering her eventual conflict with the Scions’ youngest member. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”</p><p> </p><p>He makes a mental note to warn Minfilia about Alphinuad’s safety another time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. part</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>part (v): to separate from or take leave of someone; to take leave of one another</p>
<p>post world of darkness; when we are young we believe we have all the time in the world</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I see you finally agreed to have your wounds tended,” Hallura says, beaming as G’raha walks into the chirugeons’ tent. The healers’ tedious silence is at an end, it would seem - she tries not to perk up too noticeably.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The russet-haired Miqo’te chuckles quietly. “Perhaps,” he says, offering her a subdued smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura frowns at his somber tone. Since returning from the Void, he has been melancholy and distant - she knew his grief for Doga and Unei was great, but perhaps she has underestimated just how deep their connection ran. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come sit with me,” she suggests, scooting over on her cot and patting the space beside her. Coping with loss is much easier with others, after all. “You look like you could use some company.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>G’raha hesitates - she can see his shoulders hunch ever so slightly and watches his tail twitch. She smiles as warmly as she can at him, hoping the fluttering in her stomach doesn’t show.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually he relents, sighing softly and moving to sit on the cot next to her; the cot dips beneath his added weight, and Hallura feels as though lightning has shot down her spine when his arm brushes hers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, the ruby ring in her pocket presses a very, very noticeable shape into her skin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She clears her throat and looks at him, praying that she isn’t blushing. “Would you like to talk about it?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her question seems to catch him off guard - he must be truly brooding to have missed it. “Talk about what?” he asks, staring back at her with two gorgeous ruby eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, whatever seems to be bothering you,” Hallura explains, shifting to face him. He is so very close to her - it’s maddening. “Is it Doga and Unei?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah.” G’raha’s eyes flit away from hers. “Yes...yes, I suppose it is.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not the answer Hallura was looking for, but she’ll take it. “Is this...your first time losing someone important to you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t respond, but his right ear flicks, and she thinks she might be right. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. I’m sorry, Raha.” Her heart aches for him; she still remembers clearly the loss of her family as a child, something so painful that it still haunts her. How terrible it must be for him now, a grown man, and even worse to have lost the only people in the world like him. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>G’raha lets out a sound that is half laugh, half sigh. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not...it’s not your fault.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know - but I understand your pain,” she tells him, reaching out to take his hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The action startles him - his shoulders jump, and he jerks his head quickly to meet her gaze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura can’t help but notice the way his tears have caught on his lashes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You...you know you don’t have to suffer alone,” she continues, swallowing thickly. G’raha’s tears have inspired some of her own, it would seem. “I know it might seem impossible now - but I promise it will get better.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She squeezes his hand gently, unable to stop herself from saying, “And I’ll be here for you. I promise that, too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, she manages to catch her tongue before it can go saying any more - she was practically a step away from ruining her meticulously planned proposal. With her free hand, she tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, pushing down her nerves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>G’raha searches her eyes for a long while after she makes her promises, brilliant red seeking an answer Hallura isn’t sure she has. Despite the pounding of her heart and the sweat on her hands, she manages to look right back at him, hoping that he will find what he needs there - in her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After a few long moments, he closes his eyes and tilts his head. “You are too kind to me,” he murmurs, slowly turning his hand beneath hers so that their palms touch. It’s a tentative gesture, and though Hallura wants nothing more than to entwine her fingers with his, she simply lets their hands rest there, afraid to push his boundaries.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kindness is what you deserve,” she insists with a smile. “I will always be happy to share mine with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He glances up at her one more time. “...Thank you, Hallura.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hearing her full name from his lips surprises her - but she just shakes her head and says, “Of course, Raha.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then he leans against her, fully, letting his head bump against her shoulder and his body press against her arm. She can’t help but go stiff in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we stay like this?” comes a quiet whisper, and Hallura looks down to see his ears pressed against his head. “Just for a little while?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the most endearing request she’s ever received. “You don’t even need to ask,” she replies, trying to relax into his warmth. She wonders if he can feel the thrumming of her pulse through her skin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There will be another time to propose, she thinks, settling against him and listening to the sound of his breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For now, she is together with him - and together they may face the future as one.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. ache (NSFW)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>ache (v): to suffer a usually dull persistent pain</p><p>NSFW, but nothing explicit - i am outing myself as a g'raha/aymeric/hallura shipper oops</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If there is a heaven on this earth, Hallura thinks dreamily, surely this must be it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whisper of a brush through her hair, the delicate press of a cloth against her legs. Teeth and tongues have been replaced by soothing caresses and soft kisses, and she thinks she has never been spoiled so thoroughly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lets out a satisfied sigh, relaxing further into G’raha’s lap. He lets out a laugh and pauses, the brush coming to a stop halfway down her scalp. With his free hand, he runs a finger down her cheek. “Pleased?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very,” she replies, nuzzling into his touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she doesn’t say any more, G’raha laughs again. “We’ve certainly done a number on you, haven’t we?” he remarks, resuming his ministrations with the brush. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely,” agrees Aymeric from behind her, and the sensation of the cloth ceases. Hallura hears the sheets rustle and feels the bed dip, before Aymeric’s warm hands are running along her hips. “Silence is a sign of the utmost pleasure.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers skate over a tender spot on her hip, and she lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a hum and a grunt. It’s not a protest by any means, but Aymeric stops moving. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘M fine,” she murmurs, but Aymeric nudges her gently so that she rolls over and faces upwards instead of lying on her side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” he says, and there’s a thickness to his voice that Hallura can’t quite place. “These will bruise…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bruise?” G’raha stops brushing her hair again; this time he sets down the brush. Hallura whines in protest, but when his hands join Aymeric’s on her bare skin, she just huffs and lets them continue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Together, her partners trace over their handiwork: bite marks, imprints on her hips in the shapes of their fingers and nails, skin kissed red. Aymeric is right - their marks will ripen come morning; she has had enough bruises to know that when she rises, her body will be raw with the remnants of their attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They have left imprints in every part of her, and she covets the feeling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, my love,” Aymeric says sheepishly. He picks up her hand and presses a chaste kiss to it. “It would appear we have been careless with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you in pain?” G’raha asks worriedly, hands finding her chin and tilting her head up, exposing the hickeys blooming on her neck. “Would you like us to fetch salve or ice..?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their fussing is nice - but Hallura doesn’t want that right now. “Mm-mm,” she says with a shake of her head, blinking her eyes open to look at her lovers. “I just want you both here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure..?” Ever the worrier, G’raha touches her cheek with concern clear in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.” She twines her hand with Aymeric’s, interlocking their fingers, and leans into G’raha’s palm. “I like it. I like feeling you both on me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aymeric smiles serenely - though beneath it Hallura knows her words have stirred his possessiveness - and G’raha blushes to the tips of his ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the truth, she knows, tugging them both down to lay beside her. Aymeric presses a kiss to her hair before tucking her head beneath his chin and sighing, a sign that he intends to fall asleep. Hallura smiles lazily, happy that he is satisfied as well. With her free hand, she twines her fingers with G’raha’s hand and pulls him flush against her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s really alright?” he whispers, red eyes wide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really, Raha,” she promises him, blinking sleepily. “Rest now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a moment, G’raha obliges her, cuddling close and resting his nose against her collarbone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tomorrow she will wake with a soreness in her muscles and a sting under her skin - and she counts herself lucky to have received even a fraction of such passionate love.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. lucubration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>lucubration (n): laborious or intensive study</p><p>late heavensward; hallura is worried about alphinaud and alphinaud is kind of dense</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A soft knock at the door pulls Alphinaud's attention from his tome. He rubs his eyes, calling out, "Come in."</p><p> </p><p>The door opens to reveal Hallura, carrying two steaming mugs in her hands. "Up late again?" she asks with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>"Indeed," he says, laughing breathily. He glances over to the candles, which are nearly half-gone. "It appears I have lost track of time." </p><p> </p><p>She walks over to his desk, setting down one mug for him. A soothing, warm scent wafts over him - hot chocolate. Alphinaud smiles softly. "I figured as much. You didn't show for Lord Edmont's evening tea, so I assumed you were still studying." </p><p> </p><p>"Ah. Please give the Count my apologies," Alphinaud says, a little embarrassed to have been so engrossed in his reading that he missed Lord Edmont's invitation.</p><p> </p><p>Hallura just smiles down at him and ruffles his hair, which makes him grimace. "Don't worry about it. He knows how hard you've been working."</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes wander from him to the open book on his desk, scanning over the text. </p><p> </p><p>Purely on reflex, Alphinaud hastens to close the tome - it's nothing scandalous, but to him the topic is most certainly sensitive.</p><p> </p><p>Alas, he can tell that Hallura sees enough of it before his hasty attempt to hide the subject of his study. She withdraws her hand and frowns at him. "You're reading about healing?" </p><p> </p><p>Guiltily, he hunches in on himself. "Yes."</p><p> </p><p>"I thought you said you were studying to improve your summoning magic.” Hallura’s frown deepens. “Was I wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Despite her general carefree attitude, Alphinaud knows deep down Hallura is equipped with an intuition that is sharper than she lets on - and unfortunately she has chosen now to use it against him. He knows better than to lie to her. </p><p> </p><p>“Truth be told, I feel...inadequate,” he admits, opening the pages of his book again. “I am afraid that I am merely a burden to you, and to the others - I fear that I do not hold my own weight in times of need.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Alphinaud,” she sighs, and he tries not to wince at the note of pity in her voice. “You know that you’re not a burden. You’re very talented and you should be proud of it. You don't have to be a healer if you'd rather focus on summoning; you're well-versed in both to begin with.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know - I know.” Her encouragement is kind, but he does not want to hear praise. “I simply…”</p><p> </p><p>It is so very difficult to force the words out. Thankfully, she is patient, folding her arms and waiting for him to continue. </p><p> </p><p>“I worry for you,” he finally blurts out, wholly ineloquent in his delivery. “I worry that I - that if you should come to harm, I will be unable to help you.”</p><p> </p><p>Hallura’s mouth twists, a combination of a weary smile and a frown. He backtracks, hoping he hasn’t offended her.</p><p> </p><p>“I - I know you’re fully capable of protecting yourself,” he stammers, “but I just...I can’t help worrying for you. I’m afraid to see you fall as Lord Haurchefant did at the Vault.”</p><p> </p><p>As soon as the words are out, he feels the blood drain from his face. How humiliating to be reminded of that tragedy - Alphinaud suddenly wishes he would evaporate into thin air.</p><p> </p><p>“...I see.” Her expression is unreadable, and he feels shame welling up within him for having been so callous. He turns his eyes to the book, staring but not seeing, wishing he could take it back.</p><p> </p><p>A warm hand comes to rest on the crown of his head. “I appreciate it, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks up in surprise. “You don’t mind?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well...I don’t mind much,” Hallura replies, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “But I understand. I’d hate to lose someone important to me too.”</p><p> </p><p>“...I’m glad.” Alphinaud hangs his head in relief. “I’m sorry, though. For being so careless with my words.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine. I’m used to you being an arrogant brat most of the time - at least this time you meant well.” The hand on his head ruffles his hair once again, chasing away the melancholic regret and replacing it with frustration. “Get some rest, Alphinaud. You can study more in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>And with that, she breezes out of his room, leaving him behind with his hot chocolate.</p><p> </p><p>With a final glance at its pages, he closes his book and sighs, before leaning forward to blow out his midnight candles one by one.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. fade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>fade (v): to lose freshness, strength, or vitality; to sink away</p><p>spoilers for 5.3; a bit of a tangent from previous prompts</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing you do when you have the strength to use your new old body is stare at your reflection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is no one else awake now - or no one else who </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> be awake. The moon, full and bright, shines through your window and casts the world in silver.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are alone, save for the stars, and you are thankful there will be no one else to witness this moment of weakness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, you remove your clothing piece by piece, letting the fabric pool at your feet, until you are completely bare. With one hand, you untie your hair from its loose braid, closing your eyes as you feel the strands come to rest against your neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You exhale long and slow, counting ten heartbeats before you open your eyes and lean forward towards the mirror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s amazing, the way your face is both familiar and foreign to yourself at the same time. You blink, a little mesmerized by the way the moon makes your unblemished skin glow. Everything about you is the same and yet everything is </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> - with reverent hands, you trace your fingers over your flesh, wondering at this strange phenomenon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your arm and chest - soft and supple, no longer hardened crystal. Your fingers dance over your collarbone, over your breast where you can feel your heart beating. This is the most glaring difference, you would say - after many years spent half-man, half-tower, you are wholly and completely your own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On your neck and shoulders - tattoos which had been lost to time and tragedy. In this body of yours, the memory of the needle pricking your skin is still close enough to touch, undulled by age or sleep. And you remember keenly the pride you felt when they were finished, the way you had tugged down your shirt collar and rolled up your sleeves to show them off to your peers, marks of your great achievement.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You also remember the itching, and the thought makes you laugh. Your hands trail over them, these tattoos which once meant so much to you, and you smile. Great achievements, you had believed them; they seem silly compared to what you have accomplished since.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Up your neck, to your chin and cheeks, unscarred by the cost of sacrifice. Awed, you draw your fingers around the shape of where crystal once lay embedded in your skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your markings are untouched, as are your irises, ever the same shade of ruby red. Perhaps you are imagining it - but you think, just maybe, your eyes are wider and brighter and as you gingerly pat the skin beneath them, you wonder if they are no longer sunken from the weight of your grief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As you explore the expanse of your face, you brush against your hair; once you have mapped your own visage, you reach up to run your fingers through your russet locks. Vibrant and healthy, with no shock of white creeping up through the fringes. You cast a glance down, drawing your tail against your leg, and find the same colorful fur.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After another moment of reverie, you step back from the mirror and take in the view of yourself as a whole - </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> body, as pure and perfect as the day you closed the doors to the Crystal Tower. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is not a hint of the person you became after those doors were opened again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You frown, and it is so strange to see your reflection do the same - it has been many, many years since you faced yourself like this...and yet, as you think about it, it hasn’t been so many years after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are you, this much you know. There is no other entity hovering in your mind, only yourself. But already, so soon after your awakening, you can feel yourself slowly mingling with who you </span>
  <em>
    <span>used</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be. Decades of hard-earned patience and practicality, mixing with the urgency and eagerness of youth. Aged hopes and fears clashing against fledgling dreams and desires. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Boundaries and resignation drawn deep into the sand, washed away by a tide of agonizing, burning feelings which are still raw for the man who slept years instead of centuries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With each passing moment, the Crystal Exarch loses a piece of himself to himself - to G’raha Tia.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You are still you - but you wonder how long it will be before you lose that, too.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. panglossian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>panglossian (n): marked by the view that all is for the best in this best of possible worlds; excessively optimistic</p>
<p>post 2.55; hallura's scars are not just physical</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Stupid.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She is so stupid. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura lifts her arm from her eyes, wincing at the sting of the bandage wrapped around her palm. She struggles to focus her gaze on the wound, seeing and not seeing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(If she closes her eyes, she can still feel the Brass Blade’s sword in her grip and the strain of her muscles from catching it with her hand, mere inches away from her breast.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>How could she have been so foolish? And how many others have taken the fall for her carelessness?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Y’shtola and Thancred. Yda and Papalymo. Minfilia. Wilred. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s not even counting the Scions who weren’t at the banquet. What of Riol, Hoary Boulder and Coultenet? Urianger?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There are so many names. So many people who are gone because she had looked away from the corruption festering within her own home. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is what she deserves, she thinks dejectedly. For believing in the best of people - choosing to believe in </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> the best of people. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All the signs were there, if she thinks about it. The shadow behind Ilberd’s smile when he would pat her shoulder and remark on her shaky Ala Mhigan swordsmanship; Yuyuhase's sinister grin over shared drinks, Laurentius' shifty eyes following her during missions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She can hear the clink of gold coins between Teledji's fingertips, and Lolorito's cackle as his sellswords laid Raubahn low.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hadn't she learned her lesson about facades and falsehoods as a child? Suffering through years of bullying, discovering the hard way that smiles are not always true, that the worst wounds come from people who pretend to love you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But she had looked the other way. Convinced herself that they were respectable people who would check their own dark desires, and if not someone else would surely handle any trouble that arose. Even the imperfect was perfect, because all the pieces would fall exactly where they needed to without her touch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She told herself her own joy and heartbreak was paramount to the wellbeing of her friends, her family - and now they are all gone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Everything is falling apart," she rasps aloud to no one. "It's all falling apart."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It is a terrible price to pay for her blind confidence, her naïve hope - and she supposes it must be fair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shuts her eyes and is not surprised to find she has no more tears left to cry.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. where the heart is</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>where the heart is (n): the place where one has a foundation of love, warmth, and happy memories</p>
<p>background-esque; how is it that hallura is never homesick?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>At six years old, home is the rug beside the fireplace and hands combing through her hair. It is the smell of cardamom and her father’s joyful call of her name every time he returns from a trip. It is the lullabies her mother sings and lying beside her baby sister, watching Somaya’s tiny fists clutch her own little finger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It is the first home she loves - and it is the first home she loses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At ten years old, home is a cramped bunk bed shared with three other children; it is busy afternoons helping the caretakers make watery soup that just barely staves off hunger. It is holding hands to run in circles and chanting old rhymes until dizziness drags her down. It is making a place for herself and for the others whose given homes were taken away like hers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But the world is not kind, and it steals away her home in the orphanage, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At fifteen years old, home is rising early to help out in the fields of the family farm and swimming in crystal-blue waters before noon. It is stealing a sip of Aertsborn’s ale while he guffaws with his sailor comrades, and Wastbryda’s scolding when they return home late. It is picking up an axe and working hard to learn to wield it; it is calling her adopted parents “ma” and “pa” for the first time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This is the first home she gets to fight for; it is the first home she gets to keep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At twenty years old, home is tiny barracks and barked orders, drills and missions. It is her close-knit team of recruits - Aria, Kies, Caitel and Jekha’li - and the drinks they share after day trips and patrols. It is the crimson standard stitched onto her clothing, worn proudly for everyone to see, and the white stone streets that she swears to protect.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Admiral Merlwyb asks her to leave this home when she is twenty-two, and she says yes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At twenty-three, home is the mess hall of the Waking Sands and drunken nights with Thancred in her bed, knowing that Y’shtola will be there the next morning to douse them with cold water. It is sparring against Yda with the wind in her hair and earning Papalymo’s sigh of exasperation. It is traveling the world on an airship, anchored by Minfilia’s gentle summons.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She learns that home is meant to grow with her, and she lets it fill her to the brim with happiness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At twenty-five, home is business, business, business. It is finally learning to wield a sword the way her ancestors did, complaining with her friends about never having time to rest only to take on another task with gusto. It is loneliness that vanishes when she looks into ruby red eyes and sees her future, a song she doesn’t understand that floats through crystalline halls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she loses it all, she wonders if her homes are just meant to be destroyed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At twenty-six, home is icy cold chased away by a warm hearth. It is being trusted to do what is right by a people who are not her own - people she chooses to fight for anyway. It is a deep, soothing voice that touches her core; a lover who she shares her secrets with, who smoothes her jagged edges with his kindness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finding a new home terrifies her - but she embraces it all the same.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At twenty-seven, home is in the beautifully written letters Aymeric sends her and her own hastily written replies on any piece of paper she can find. It is draping Alphinaud and Alisaie with a blanket and comforting Lyse under an endless starry sky. It is determination, purple and green banners won with blood, and a piece of her past she refuses to give up on this time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Someday, she swears she will share her home with Somaya; she’ll do whatever it takes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At twenty-eight, home is uncertain and unknown; it is old feelings shared with old enemies in an apartment kept just for her. It is truly appreciating the night as she banishes corrupting light from the skies of the First, and grieving for a history lost to time and space. It is the Crystal Exarch’s steadfast confidence in her, the love she feels for people she has lost and found again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Home is everyone, she discovers; it is everything. It lives inside of her, carried everywhere she goes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Home is beautiful, and home will live on long after she is gone.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. hoe (free day)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hoe (v): to work with a tool with a thin flat blade on a long handle to cultivate, weed, or loosen the earth around plants </p>
<p>post 5.3; aymeric and g'raha respect the content and once again i have 0 excuses for the prompt</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’d never have taken either of those men as the type for farm labor,” says Wastbryda with a raised eyebrow, jerking her chin behind Hallura.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura straightens her back and follows her mother’s gesture, squinting in the bright sunlight. She finds the targets of her mother’s scrutiny standing amidst a plot of vegetables: G’raha and Aymeric, collecting dislodged weeds in their hands.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A laugh works its way out of Hallura’s throat, part pride and part amusement. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have either,” she agrees, downing a cup of water and wiping down her sweaty brow. “I don’t think they really are - I can guarantee you Aymeric’s never farmed a day in his life. Raha I’m not sure, but he doesn’t do this on the regular; too bookish.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wastbryda snorts. “He’s too pale to even go </span>
  <em>
    <span>outside</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the regular.” She leans over to pour Hallura more water, before stepping back and balancing the water jug in her hands. “How’d they end up here for the day, then?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Funny story, that.” Hallura takes a sip before sighing. “We got into a bit of a spat about bathing a couple days back. Shouldn’t have been big, but it got messy and so when it all calmed down we decided we should spend some time working together to make up for it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you bullied them into coming here to work?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll have you know that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aymeric</span>
  </em>
  <span> who suggested it, not me,” Hallura retorts, rolling her eyes. “He wanted to visit the farm again. I was just the one who decided what we’d be doing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her mother just quirks an eyebrow at her again. Hallura resists the urge to sigh - she knows that her relationship with G’raha and Aymeric is complicated; some days she struggles to wrap her own head around it. It’s only natural that Wastbryda worries, she supposes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Wastbryda shrugs. “As long as they’re helping, I suppose. You’re not carrying the weight all by yourself, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That I am not.” Hallura rolls her shoulders, grinning. “I’m tilling up the soil, but they get to pull the weeds.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Both Hallura and her mother look down the hill to where her paramours are gathering up the unwanted greenery. From here, nothing seems amiss - but she knows firsthand that both men are sweating, engrossed in their task as though it were some great mission</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The two women look back at each other, and promptly burst out laughing - Hallura into whole body guffaws, Wastbryda with her characteristic dry chuckle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura shakes her head. “It seems ridiculous, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her mother nods, looking thoroughly bemused. “An Ishgardian noble and a Sharlayan scholar working side by side on my farm...if you’d have told me I’d ever witness it a few years ago, I would have walloped you upside the head.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would’ve been an insult back then,” Hallura says with a nod, before throwing back the rest of her water. She hands her mother her emptied cup, wiping down her face with her bandana. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose I should be proud that my daughter has enough pull to bring such important people to work for me,” Wastbryda muses, fingers idly tapping the cup. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dunno if you want to be proud of how I convinced them,” Hallura counters with a smirk, rolling up her shirtsleeves again so they won’t catch on the plants.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, yes. You were always adventurous with your conquests.” Wastbryda turns on her heel, setting back towards the house. “Maybe I should just be proud that you pick people worth the trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take that as a compliment, ma,” Hallura snickers. “Thanks for the water; I’m getting back to the field now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send some more water down for your men; can’t have them fainting from such difficult labor.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It warms Hallura’s heart to hear her mother call Aymeric and G’raha “her men.” She laughs again, hoisting up her harrow and adjusting her wide-brimmed hat. “Wouldn’t that be something?” she hums, eyes turning again to watch her lovers work.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>okay LOOK i made a joke about hallura referring to g'raha and aymeric as her hoes and then my friend was like "commit to it" so i DID and this is what we got and i literally can't capture the chaotic energy that went into forming this prompt but feel free to call me out for double meanings any time</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. foibles</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>foibles (n): minor flaws or shortcomings in character or behavior</p><p>post-vault heavensward; estinien is worried that hallura's Reputation will come back to bite aymeric in the butt</p><p>please see notes at the end for some discussion!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Estinien would say he knows Ser Aymeric.</p><p> </p><p>He is loath to use the term ‘friends’ to describe them - though Aymeric doubtless refers to him as such - but nonetheless, Estinien believes he understands Aymeric, better than most.</p><p> </p><p>So it floors him when, one evening, he catches Aymeric and the Warrior of Light sleeping in bed together, through the window of Aymeric's private quarters.</p><p> </p><p>"You do <em> know </em>about her, right?" Estinien says the next day, confronting Aymeric in his office. He leans against the wall, fixing the Lord Commander with a glare that Aymeric can probably feel despite Estinien's helmet.</p><p> </p><p>Aymeric simply hums, turning over a report in his hand. "I've no idea what you're talking about," he says smoothly, and Estinien frowns in annoyance - Aymeric knows exactly what he means.</p><p> </p><p>"The Warrior of Light," he snaps, and is rewarded with a small sigh from Aymeric. "I saw you sleeping with her last night; you should keep your windows shuttered if you intend to be so foolish."</p><p> </p><p>The Lord Commander exhales slowly, setting down the paper and folding his hands on his desk. "And what of it?"</p><p> </p><p>"'What of it?'" Estinien scoffs, shaking his head. "I've never known you to act so carelessly. You, more than anyone, should know the consequences of whimsical dalliances."</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps a bit of a low blow - but Estinien is frankly concerned that Aymeric has taken a blow to the head already. Surely he is not blind to the ramifications of his relationship with Hallura Kaine.</p><p> </p><p>“So other lords should be free to ‘dally’ as they please, but <em> I </em> must refrain from enjoying myself?” Aymeric retorts, and Estinien knows his barb has hit the mark. </p><p> </p><p>“You know what I mean.”</p><p> </p><p>The Lord Commander sighs again, leaning back into his chair. “I understand your concern, Estinien. But both Hallura and I are mindful of what we risk. Rest assured we are being careful.” </p><p> </p><p>He holds up a hand before Estinien can point out that obviously they have not been careful enough if they could be seen. "Frankly, I feel that I should be asking why you felt the need to look into my chambers to begin with.”</p><p> </p><p>Estinien blanches. He doesn’t want to admit that it’s not the first time he has checked in - he  worries for Aymeric, both his heart and his health, after the death of Lord Haurchefant. He dodges the question instead, pushing himself up from the wall and marching over to stand directly in front of Aymeric.</p><p> </p><p>“As amusing as the thought of your future brood is, I’m not talking about any halflings your little affair might spawn,” Estinien says, placing a hand on the desk between them. “I’m more concerned about what the rest of this damned city is going to <em> do </em> to you if they find out you’re entertaining Limsa Lominsa’s most notorious harlot.”</p><p> </p><p>Aymeric’s icy blue eyes narrow at him, indicating that he knows all too well what Estinien is talking about. “I will caution you not to speak like that about her again,” he replies, voice low and frigid - a clear sign of his anger. “She is a warrior of great accomplishment who has nobly offered her aid in defending our home. What she chooses to pursue in her free time is none of our concern.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s of concern to me,” counters Estinien, unwilling to let the issue go. His frustration over Aymeric’s apparent lack of concern gets the better of him, and he presses further. “Do you realize how people would take it if word got out? You <em> know </em> our people, Aymeric. They would not take kindly to learning that you have been laying with a foreigner, one who has quickly risen to social prominence and power thanks to <em> your </em> support.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am aware of what the people would think,” Aymeric fires back, tone still even but spoken with a speed which bespeaks a deep-seated fury. Estinien stares at Aymeric, really stares at him, and is surprised to see determination simmering behind measured eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“I am aware,” Aymeric repeats, softer this time, almost apologetic. “Our people have no love for those such as I, and less for those such as Hallura. I have weighed the consequences in my mind, and I know what awaits me should the truth come to light.”</p><p> </p><p>Estinien falls silent, pondering what he has said. </p><p> </p><p>Aymeric has weighed the consequences - and chosen accordingly. He has chosen her, this Hallura Kaine, despite the odds. </p><p> </p><p>Estinien isn’t sure if he’s awed or afraid of what that might mean for his friend.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you in love with her?” he asks plainly, standing up straight from leaning over Aymeric’s desk. He can think of no other reason Aymeric would risk so much for.</p><p> </p><p>The heat in Aymeric’s gaze cools, and the Lord Commander offers Estinien a small smile. “No.”</p><p> </p><p>Estinien finds that answer hard to believe. “So she’s really just <em> that </em> good of a fuck?”</p><p> </p><p>Aymeric’s eyes narrow again. “Hallura is not a thing meant for entertainment,” he scolds Estinien, picking up the same paper from before and looking away from the Azure Dragoon. “It goes far beyond that.”</p><p> </p><p>His tone brooks no further room for discussion, and Estinien is left standing there, wondering what in the world Aymeric could possibly mean.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i figure this is a piece some people are probably gonna be confused over because of its tone, but i want to point out why i wrote things the way i did:</p><p>1) ishgard is extremely repressed and even though everyone and their father has sins to high heaven, the people still like to pass judgement on those whose virtues (read: family heritage) do not outweigh their vices; while neither aymeric or estinien align with those views both of them are keenly aware of how their people think</p><p>2) one of the core concepts i created hallura with is that of liberation - namely, comfort and freedom in her body and in her sex life, operating without much concern for blood ties or status; prior to the "canon" start of the game, she enjoyed casual sex regularly in her hometown of limsa lominsa, and garnered a relatively popular reputation for it, but for the sake of this explanation the most important point is that she exists exactly opposite of ishgard's repression/purity-centric views</p><p>a key reason that aymeric chooses to stay with hallura before catching feelings is because she breaks him out of this repression and helps him feel much less guilty about taking pleasure in sex; in the context of his upbringing, she is supposed to be "sin", but hallura doesn't represent sin in any of the ways he was raised to see it. she is neither dark nor evil - she is bright and full of life and also manages to take joy in her body, and eventually he wonders how something so beautiful could be a sin at all.</p><p>estinien doesn't understand this - and he's very direct when confronting aymeric about this Affair which is arguably one of the worst things aymeric could do pertaining to the social world of ishgard. he's concerned for his friend, and that's why he's so callous when talking about hallura. whether he likes it or not, he has pieces of ishgardian judginess ingrained into his being; he sees hallura as a threat to aymeric's wellbeing, but aymeric has seen beyond that, and refuses to budge.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. argy-bargy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>argy-bargy (n): a lively discussion; argument; dispute</p><p>omega side quests; nero and hallura have a talk that can definitely be considered "lively"...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"You </span>
  <em>
    <span>shut </span>
  </em>
  <span>your disgusting mouth, Nero tol Scaeva."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Address me properly and I'll consider it - how many times must I remind you it is simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nero Scaeva, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kaine?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Call me 'Kaine' again and I'll throw you off the edge of this platform into the abyss. Your name won't matter then."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cid sighs, trying his very best to drown out Hallura and Nero's bickering. He punches in a few numbers into the console Omega has provided, hoping they're the right ones - he's relatively sure they are, but the last few were drowned out by the fighting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, the console beeps to life, and Cid exhales in relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There's a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to see Biggs shuffling on his feet behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ah, Biggs. Can I help you?" Cid asks, blinking the strain out of his eyes. "Apologies - it would seem I was too engrossed in my task to even hear you approach."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Biggs shakes his head. "No fault of yours, Chief," the Roegadyn man says. "I'm surprised you could focus at all considering...considering the ruckus."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The volume of Nero and Hallura's argument pitches higher in volume, and Cid winces. "What was it that you needed?" he asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His companion's grimace is telling. "I don't mean to overstep - but is there something you can do about that?" Biggs points discreetly in the direction of the noise. "It's hard to work when they're like that...and I'm worried Omega might get fed up with them and suck us all into some space vacuum to get some peace and quiet."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cid bites the inside of his cheek, repressing a groan of frustration. Nero is difficult to cooperate with already, and lately Hallura has been feistier than Cid's ever known her to be. He supposes he will have to put his foot down and tell them to behave or get out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he can respond to Biggs, though, Wedge's voice floats up at them. "I wouldn't hold out hope, Chief."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cid and Biggs turn to look at Wedge, who sits on a crate tinkering with a piece of metal in his hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Why do you say that?" Cid frowns, crossing his arms. If Wedge is questioning his leadership skills...well, Cid supposes criticism has its valid roots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Do you even know what they're fighting about?" Wedge motions with a hand towards the arguing pair, looking up from his work. "Nero said something stupid to Hallura about G'raha Tia."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh," say Cid and Biggs at the same time - G'raha Tia, the unspoken "forbidden topic" that </span>
  <em>
    <span>most</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the Ironworks team seems to understand. Apparently Nero has not learned to keep his thoughts to himself - or is deliberately choosing to talk about it anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three men fall silent. Cid rubs his forehead with two fingers; this problem's resolution is beyond his ken, honestly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Biggs takes initiative of the situation; ever the empathetic one, he strides forward and calls out for Nero, citing some calculations that require the ex-tribunus' assistance (Cid is fairly sure that the task is either something mundanely simple that Biggs could easily do himself or is an overly complex equation that any of them have yet to solve). Cid follows close behind, wishing he could do more than dither.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course, my friend, of course; I should be happy to turn my attention towards matters of </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>import," he hears Nero drawling as Biggs tries to lead him away from further danger. The blond man narrows his eyes at Hallura, whose own white gaze is hardened with anger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Cid didn't know better he would think the temperature of the atmosphere actually drops, and if looks could kill Nero would be evaporated on the spot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Ironworks Chief steps swiftly towards Hallura, placing a hand on her shoulder before the Highlander woman can retaliate to Nero's words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She goes still under his touch, but everything about her is tense and indicates the intent to pounce. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Shall we take some air?" Cid offers clumsily, wishing he were better at de-escalating emotions. Unable to make eye contact with his infuriated friend, he pats her shoulder awkwardly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hallura is silent at first, but eventually lets out a long, measured breath. The tension does not leave her shoulders, but she turns to face Cid and nods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," she mutters quietly, before spinning on her heel and stalking off to leave the rift. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Of course," Cid says to her back, unsure if she even hears. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. shuffle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>shufle (v): walk by dragging one's feet along or without lifting them fully from the ground; shift one's position while sitting or move one's feet while standing, typically because of boredom, nervousness, or embarrassment</p>
<p>post nidhogg, a few days before The Dinner; hallura gets cornered by her fortemps family</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Emmanellain, this is pointless."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Nonsense. If I can teach Lady Laniaitte how to dance, I most certainly can teach you." The young lord of House Fortemps proffers his hand towards Hallura once more. "Now come! Time is short!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura bites her lip, dragging her feet together. "There's really no need, you know...this is just a </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>dinner."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Emmanellain balks at her. "'</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just </span>
  </em>
  <span>a dinner?'" He pivots on his heel to gesture wildly at Artoirel, who observes patiently from the chaise. "Brother, do you hear? She claims this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>a dinner."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"It's the truth!" Hallura protests. "Ser Aymeric extended the invitation some time ago; he's simply making good on that promise."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Emmanellain waves her off with his hand. "Pah! I see right through you, old girl, I do. Do you take us for fools? We know about you and Ser Aymeric."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He says it in a way that leaves little room for imagination, and with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Hallura thinks he has no business wearing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not - I have no idea what you’re talking about," she insists, and she knows it sounds like the bluster it is. She’s always been a terrible liar in the face of truth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, but I’m sure you most certainly do.” Emmanellain waggles his eyebrows at her. “Unless you mean to tell me that you rejected the Lord Commander’s feelings some time between convalescing and now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura feels the blood drain from her face. It has been a mere month since her recovery took a turn for the better. One month since she confessed to Aymeric, and he to her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One month since they decided that they must keep their relationship secret.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How on earth does he know?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her heart stops, and she feels a sudden urge to bolt out the manor doors.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Artoirel rises from the chaise, approaching the pair to pat his brother on the shoulder. “Come now, Emmanellain,” he chides, “let her be. Look, you’ve scared her half to death.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The eldest Fortemps son flashes Hallura an apologetic look that fails to calm her nerves - in fact, it exacerbates her flight instinct further. It is all but confirmation that indeed, their secret is out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know?” she tries to demand, but her voice comes out in a cracked whisper. She shifts from foot to foot. “Who else knows?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A-</span>
  <em>
    <span>ha!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Emmanellain snaps his fingers; he looks ready to press further, but Artoirel nudges his brother aside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Enough, Emmanellain.” Artoirel dips his head towards Hallura. “Apologies for not broaching the topic sooner, Hallura. We were more concerned with your recovery; but I promise you that only myself, Emmanellain, and our father are aware of your relationship with Ser Aymeric.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Hallura bites her lip again - if Emmanellain knows, surely their secret is in the hands of a good many more. “That’s...that’s still three people too many,” she manages to remark bleakly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Allow me to explain,” Artoirel says, holding up a hand. “While you were healing at your worst, Ser Aymeric was insistent that he remain as close to the infirmary as possible, and our father quickly surmised that he wished to be close to </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” She feels her ears go red with embarrassment. “But…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Emmanellain cuts in. “We passed it off as him presiding over you and Estinien - but it took some effort to cover his tracks when he began spending longer hours at </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> bedside, and he couldn’t do it alone.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He asked you to help him?” Hallura balks, unsure why Aymeric agreed to secrecy if the secret was out before it was even born. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Artoirel shakes his head. “We simply glimpsed his need from afar and offered to take turns in the infirmary to deflect suspicion. He may suspect that we know, but he has never confronted us about it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> seeing him, are you not?” Emmanellain pipes up, leaning against his brother. “I should be most disappointed to learn that the tale of my favorite star-crossed lovers is a mere fantasy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d hardly call us </span>
  <em>
    <span>star-crossed,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hallura snorts before she can stop herself. She sighs, deciding there’s no point in deceiving her friends. “Yes. I am seeing him. But...I ask that you keep our secret. We don’t...I don’t wish to see him slandered because of me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Artoirel nods. “We understand. The political ramifications would be difficult for you both.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Personally I think it’s ridiculous,” Emmanellain scoffs. “You’re a hero, and he’s a hero, and you’ve both earned some respite from all the mess; it’s folly to decry your happiness as heresy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Emmanellain,” Artoirel says sternly, and the younger lord’s back straightens. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“B-but your secret is safe with us,” Emmanellain adds quickly. “You’ll not hear a word of it from our lips.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Even yours?” Hallura can’t help but jab with a half-hearted grin. She still has her misgivings, but she supposes in the end there’s nothing she can do about it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Emmanellain is all too ready for her quip. “Even mine...</span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> you agree to let me teach you the waltz, dear Hallura.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She laughs. “I really don’t understand why…but if you insist,” she relents. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I most certainly do!” Emmanellain extends his hand to her again; Artoirel shakes his head with a sigh, but retreats once more to the chaise and takes a seat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura rolls her eyes, putting her hand in Emmanellain’s open palm. “I’ll warn you that I’m a lost cause when it comes to dancing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I am a lost cause when it comes to giving up on</span>
  <em>
    <span> romance!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He rolls the “r” in romance,  drawing her into a dancing position. “Just think of how pleased Ser Aymeric will be when he asks you to dance for the first time - he’ll be most impressed!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If I manage to impress him I’ll owe you twenty gil,” Hallura chuckles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the spirit! Now, hold your arm like this, and follow my lead...and pick up your feet, old girl!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. beam</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>beam (n): a long piece of heavy often squared timber suitable for use in construction</p><p>anyone for ishgardian restoration?; hallura has serious ptsd about roofs</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hallura knows the unfinished roof will fall before it actually does.</p><p> </p><p>At least, she thinks she does - but she blinks, suddenly seeing the world in slow motion, and she is no longer in Ishgard, no longer in the Firmament. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She is in a castle with crimson pillars and golden reliefs of dragons, and there are green tiles smashing to the floor before her feet. The ground quakes, and the sound of water roars through sacred halls.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><b>“Go, my lord!”</b> <em> she hears Gosetsu cry. </em> <b>“Go while there is still time!”</b> <b>  </b></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And then she is running, running away, one arm looped under Hien’s shoulders, their legs running from the sound of wood groaning beneath the weight of the sky. Together they run and run, over shattered treasures and shredded tapestries, stumbling but never stalling, knowing that if they stop they will turn around and waste the precious chance Gosetsu has given them. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> There is a loud </em> <b>crack</b> <em> - sharp and piercing, and the earth shudders. She squeezes her eyes shut and presses onward. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Her tears stain the ground behind her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She blinks again, returning to brown wood rafters and open blue skies, and she jumps to her feet.</p><p> </p><p>“Out!” she yells, projecting as loud as she can. “Everyone out, now!”</p><p> </p><p>The children playing inside the building’s framework stare at her as though she has sprouted wings from her head, but when a deafening creak fills the fledgling structure, they all take her meaning and rush towards safety. </p><p> </p><p>They heed her warning too late, though - the central support gives way, and the rafters in place begin to fall like dominos. </p><p> </p><p>Without a second thought, Hallura rushes forward, channeling all the energy she has into her muscles; she doesn’t see it happen, but she most certainly <em> feels </em> it when she catches the wood on her shoulders and becomes the building’s newest pillar.</p><p> </p><p>There is wood embedded in her skin, and her body strains against the weight, thighs shaking with the effort - but she lets her eyes flit over to the side, to where the children have fetched craftsmen and civilians and caretakers, and the only sensation that matters is relief.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. wish (NSFW)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>wish (v): to have a desire for (something, such as something unattainable)</p><p>TW for swears and tasteful NSFW</p><p>heavensward, post-vault; in another life maybe she would have been happy with him</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sidurgu believes that it’s safer to ice people out than to let any of them in. He trusts no one - there is nobody left in this world to protect him, should the right person find the wrong place, some chink in the armor that is all he has left to defend himself.</p><p> </p><p>But when Hallura has her fingers buried in her hair and he is buried in <em> her, </em> he finds himself thinking maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let someone in after all.</p><p> </p><p>It is foolish of him to consider it, he knows. She comes to him only in fleeting moments, hushed and breathless, needy and desperate. Their fucking is always rushed, on a table or a chair or the floor, still half-dressed and one eye always trained on the door.</p><p> </p><p>(Once, just once, he takes her on the bed, and it's the closest to paradise he's ever felt.)</p><p> </p><p>He has known her for scarcely a few months, if even that long, and he knows little more than her name and where she comes from. </p><p> </p><p>He knows far less about love.</p><p> </p><p>He can't help but wonder, though, if she couldn't teach him. </p><p> </p><p>There is something about her touch: the way she caresses his arm after gripping tight enough to bruise, how she runs a soothing hand over his scalp after tugging too hard, the way her fingers linger after fixing his clothes and strands of hair around his cheeks. Every action hints of a readiness to give, to pour herself into someone else.</p><p> </p><p>Sidurgu knows without having to ask - Hallura has known love, and she has lost it.</p><p> </p><p>She never says as much, but everything about her screams <em> loneliness, I am alone please hold me, </em> no matter how well she thinks she hides it from him. Even when she drops to her knees before him, makes his mind go white with her tongue, even when she rolls against him in all the right ways, he can still feel her pain, and he knows it because it is his own.</p><p> </p><p>Would that he could tell her the truth: that he feels, that he understands. That he cares.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight is no different than the rest - she sweeps into his room and pushes him into a chair, kisses him with passionate haste and unbuckles the latches of her armor. He drinks her in greedily, pretending that treacherous thoughts are not lingering in the back of his mind.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight, when she slides off her pants, he sees marks on her hips that are not from him again, and he has to hold his breath because it is not his place to hurt. They have promised each other nothing, agreed only to the temporary relief that sex brings.</p><p> </p><p>It is not his place because he cannot let her in, he will not allow her in, no matter how much he yearns to. He cannot be there for her, so he cannot blame her for seeking the solace she craves somewhere else.</p><p> </p><p>And yet he can't help it - when he slips inside her to the hilt, when she lets out a quiet gasp against his forehead, when she curls her fingers against his neck and clenches around him. He can't help but lean his nose against her chest, shut his eyes, and wonder.</p><p> </p><p>If he had the courage to open his heart for her, would she have space for him within her own?</p><p> </p><p>Could he be worth enough for that?</p><p> </p><p>He is too afraid to learn the answer, so when he finishes on her thighs and she hurries to clean herself up, he simply laces up his trousers and straightens his shirt, feigning aloofness to the tension in her shoulders. He looks the other way when she tells him that's the last time they'll fuck (because someone else wants her more, enough to let her in) and nods plainly when she says she will still be there to help him and Rielle find justice.</p><p> </p><p>When Hallura leaves, just as quickly as she came, Sidurgu does not ask her to stay - pretending to the end that his heart does not want her to.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. when pigs fly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>when pigs fly: used to say that one thinks that something will never happen</p>
<p>TW for some pretty intense feelings of self-loathing</p>
<p>post-stormblood, a direct prequel piece to 'tooth and nail'; hallura hates zenos</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> I would never, </em>she thinks to herself, sitting in a tub full of water gone cold. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I would never. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her stomach roils, burning, threatening to spill up her throat again, but there is nothing left for her body to expel - nothing tangible. Nothing that will make the churning cease.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I'm not like him. I'm not like him. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Beast," he had called her, licking his lips and eyeing her as though she were bare to him. "My monster…"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"My friend."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She has never felt so wrong, so disgusted in her own body. Every ilm of her feels violated, her flesh corrupted by his hideous words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They are only words, but she curls into herself and digs her nails into her arms. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Words cannot cut so deep if there is not some grain of truth to them after all, and that is what she fears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Go forth," he had said, "and bathe in blood. Become worthy of me through hate and fire."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And she had done exactly that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My enemy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The words play in her head again, again, again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> I’m not like him. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She pitches forward, forcing her face beneath the water, and screams.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. bite the bullet (free day)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>bite the bullet: to get something over with because it is inevitable</p><p>pre-eden's gate raids; hallura picks up a new toy and thancred is exasperated</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Thancred! Thancred, you halfwit, I’m back! Ryne!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hallura waves at her white-clad friends, who have been waiting for her at the edge of the Empty. He turns away from Ryne at the sound of her voice, quirking an eyebrow at her from afar. Ryne’s face lights up at the sight of her, and she runs over to greet Hallura; Thancred saunters after her, slow and casual.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back to the First,” he says, smiling as Hallura ruffles Ryne’s hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you miss me?” Hallura asks them both, leaning down to squish Ryne into a tight hug. “I hope I wasn’t gone for too long. I forgot to ask Ra - the Exarch how long I’ve been away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not long enough to justify missing you,” Thancred snorts. “A few weeks, give or take.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We did miss you,” whispers Ryne, playfully overacting a whisper behind one hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hallura beams. “Ryne will make a liar out of you, Thancred.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, of course.” Thancred shrugs. “What news from the Source? Our journey to the Empty can wait just a little longer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no real news. Estinien and Gaius have been poking around the Garlean motherland while we’ve been away.” She can’t help herself from making a sour face at Gaius’ name. “Your bodies are the same, Krile says. Honestly, things have been a bit boring from the sound of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It can’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> been boring,” Ryne insists, so sweetly that Hallura’s heart clenches. “Surely there were people you were happy to see again..?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most definitely,” Hallura agrees with a smile, patting her on the shoulder. “I got to see lots of people again that I’ve missed, too, and - oh!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Struck by a sudden realization, she nudges Ryne back gently, before backpedaling herself, forming a wide open space around her. “Thancred, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See what?” He sounds mildly curious to Hallura’s ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This!” With a grin, she reaches behind her and draws her brand-new weapon: a sturdy, hand-crafted gunblade, a product of collaboration between Doman blacksmiths and the machinists of Skysteel Manufactory on the Source. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Impressive, Hallura!” Ryne exclaims, clapping her hands together. “You learned to wield a gunblade as well?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I most certainly did!” She presses the trigger, extending its blade, before swirling around to create a vortex of steel. “What do you think, Thancred?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thancred gives her a dry grin. “Very impressive. I can’t help but feel as though I’m competing with you now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As if we haven’t always been,” Hallura counters, stowing away the weapon and dusting her hands off. “I’ve been watching you since coming to the First, you know; always did want to test out a gunblade for myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d have thought you’d want nothing to do with gunblades, given your...history with Garlemald.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hallura jabs a finger towards him. “Thancred Waters, you know perfectly well </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> gunblades are the pride and joy of the Hrothgar, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the bloody Garleans. And besides, how could I possibly pass on taking up such an incredible art form?” she adds, trying not to smile too big.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thancred’s hands come to rest on his hips. “You can say it, you know. You just wanted to show up an old man.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Caught red-handed, Hallura can’t stop the chuckle that’s been bubbling up in her chest. “Alright, alright, you’re not wrong - maybe I was a little envious watching you fight with a gunblade. But think of it as...think of it as me taking </span>
  <em>
    <span>inspiration</span>
  </em>
  <span> from you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand.” Thancred heaves an exaggerated sigh. “I’m simply obsolete now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t say that,” Ryne protests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Ryne - think of it as a healthy contest between friends,” Hallura assures her. “Can’t get better if there’s no one to motivate you to get there, no?” She leans down and makes a show of whispering to Ryne, “We’ve been at this for years - he’s just upset that he can’t beat me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfectly</span>
  </em>
  <span> capable of motivating myself, thank you very much,” Thancred complains, though his tone is light-hearted. He’s halfway to walking away before whirling around and pointing at Hallura. “And I </span>
  <em>
    <span>heard</span>
  </em>
  <span> that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ryne and Hallura take one look at each other and burst into laughter.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>if you're curious, the gunblade hallura uses is the doman iron gunblade - that's the one i tend to depict her with most! (new resistance weapon might replace that soon tho....haha....)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. irenic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>irenic (adj): favoring, conducive to, or operating toward peace, moderation, or conciliation</p>
<p>set during 5.2; hallura and alisaie have a hard talk about a recent addition to the doman enclave</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There's a rap on the doorway of Hallura's room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Drowsily, she sits up from her futon and massages her face. "Come in."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door slides open, revealing Alisaie's stern countenance. "May I speak with you?" After a moment the young Elezen adds, "I'm sorry if I woke you...I didn't know you were sleeping."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No, you're fine. Come in." Hallura pushes back the blankets, adjusting to sit cross-legged atop the covers. She pats the space in front of her. "What did you want to talk about?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alisaie heeds her invitation silently, joining Hallura. Voice hesitant, she says, "I wanted…well. I wanted to know why you just forgave Yotsuyu like that."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"You want me to explain why?" Hallura blinks the sleep out of her eyes with a sigh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I just don't understand," Alisaie says, balling her fists in her lap. "I thought you didn't like Garlemald at all - and Yotsuyu did such terrible things for them."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura closes her eyes, suppressing another sigh. "I don't know if I could ever put it into words," she says eventually, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. "In my heart there was no other option."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There never would have been, after all. Hallura had taken one look at Tsuyu's docile face, at the woman Yotsuyu could have been, and she had seen a young Somaya staring back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yotsuyu was evil,” Hallura says eventually, blowing the hair out of her face. “The world was cruel and made a monster of her - and she embraced it. But I wonder if she chose to embody that monster because it was the only thing she could use to protect herself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A defense mechanism against a relentless life of cruelty,” Alisaie surmises. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly.” Hallura nods, pressing her lips together. “There would be no haven for her, either in Doma or in Garlemald.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So much like Somaya, Hallura thinks: down one path, a heartless empire that belittled her, and down the other, a foreign homeland that despised her. Faced down with such bleak prospects, Hallura cannot fault either her sister or Yotsuyu for having chosen to harden their hearts to survive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura tilts her head, propping her chin on one hand. “Now, Yotsuyu has been freed from that past, only to be delivered again into the hands of people who would hate her once more. I am not Doman, and neither are you, but I think there is no justice in punishing Tsuyu for a different woman’s crimes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alisaie ponders Hallura’s words for a long while, her contemplative silence filled with the song of summer cicadas. “I suppose you want to break the cycle,” she concludes, folding her hands in her lap. “You want to give Tsuyu a chance to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tusyu.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d be right to say that,” Hallura agrees. “Pushing my hate onto her would do nothing more than pave the way for her to become Yotsuyu again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But then what of the Domans?” Alisaie wonders, sounding worried. “Does that mean their anger is no longer justified?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Hallura says, “their pain is more than justified. They have known great suffering, made worse because it was wrought by the hand of one they thought their own. Yotsuyu chose Garlemald over Doma, and they will never forget that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She closes her eyes again and sees her sister’s infuriated face, full of vengeance and regret. “Still, I hope they do not forget that their lack of kindness drove her to do so, and I hope that they do not make the same mistake with Tsuyu.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I see.” Alisaie doesn’t sound completely confident, but she still nods. “I’ll need to think about it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t need to feel obligated to agree with me,” Hallura tells her, falling back against her pillow and sticking her arms beneath her head. “I have my own reasons for feeling the way I do, but we’re all affected differently by the way the world works. You might not be able to see what I can, and that’s alright.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I still want to try and understand,” Alisaie replies, sounding sheepish. “I guess...I just need time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura smiles. “Trust me, you have plenty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for talking to me, you know. I thought about going to see Alphinaud but I think things might have gone...differently. Probably not well.” Alisaie’s dry chuckle makes Hallura snort. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to agree with you there.” She peeks her head up at her young companion, offering a tired grin. “You’re always welcome to talk with me. Even if we don’t agree, it’s nice to know what you’re thinking.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right.” Alisaie rises from the futon, straightening her coat. “I’ll let you get some rest now, Hallura. Sleep well.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good night, Alisaie,” Hallura says with a smile, eyes sliding shut. She hears the door to her room close and Alisaie’s footsteps disappearing down the hall, the rhythmic taps lulling her into drowsiness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On the verge of sleep, she hopes that for once, she will dream of peace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. paternal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>paternal (adj): like that of a father</p><p>a view from a villain's eyes; still, what is a villain but a matter of perspective?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ilberd has never known whether he pities or despises Hallura Kaine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he does know, here at the end, he will not live to see if she disappoints him or not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ll teach me?! You’ll really teach me?!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes are earnest, her fists clasped together in what he can only describe as childish delight. It makes his heart clench - so long it has been since he last met someone so eager to partake of their Ala Mhigan heritage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost feels terrible, knowing that one day he will turn on her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, he thinks, there is no harm in showing her a technique or two from his rusty repertoire of Ala Mhigan swordplay. Perhaps one day, she will put them to use and spread word of the great homeland they were born of.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He says yes, and watches this lost child all but jump for joy. She promises to return as soon as she can, with a new sword and shield in tow, and thanks him profusely for his help in advance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she tells him that finally, she can make her birth mother proud, he feels a spark of hope that he long believed dead, and has to turn away to hide how much he hates the way that makes him feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the banquet in Ul’dah, she fails to impress him anyways, but at least he expected that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even though she proved nothing short of amazing under his rudimentary tutelage, their bonding over Ala Mhigan swordplay does not overcome the much deeper connections she has with the Scions and their foolish goals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unfortunate, he thinks, but not surprising. She does not see his deception coming, and then hates him for capitalizing on such a ripe opportunity. It is typical for someone so righteous in their convictions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurts to crush her idealism, though. He remembers when he burned with the passion of youthful revolution, of blind love for his country - so easy, those days, and so very bittersweet to recall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She spits his name and curses him, tied up and bleeding on the floor of the banquet hall, looking the part of a battered warrior but exuding the energy of a betrayed child. When he meets her furious gaze, her eyes say </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How could you? You, you of all people - how could you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has to remind himself that she must prove herself worthy before he can let himself feel remorse. Action outweighs any imagined connection between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He does not let himself hope that she will defy his expectations next time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She enacts some kind of betrayal herself - at least in his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After being pushed out of greater Eorzea, she flees to Ishgard, and in Ishgard she remains. Behind cold, magicked gates, she hides and wastes her time, while </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> works to liberate their abandoned homeland.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Lolorito disposes of him, he reverts to the shadows, still intent on pursuing his ultimate goal - but he hears whispers even in the dark, of how the Warrior of Light has fast become one of Ishgard’s most beloved heroes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It disgusts him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She finds him eventually - bursting out from the gates of the Holy See to rescue Raubahn from his pitiful fate. In the depths of Halatali, she draws her sword - the way he taught her to - and points it right at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Traitor,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she snarls at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You disgrace our homeland with your name.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just laughs and tells her to put her vengeance towards something that actually matters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She will need it to set their people free someday.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I grow tired of waiting for her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a moment of weariness, he allows his innermost thoughts to slip past his lips in front of the white-robed Ascian. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elidibus merely tilts his head curiously, but does not ask further - perhaps not caring to ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> tired, though - and angry. He is so very angry. How dare she - how dare she simply sit on her power and do nothing, whiling her days away in fame while their people languish under the Garlean yoke?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It reminds him of Raubahn, and every time he thinks about it he sees red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was supposed to be different, this child - she was supposed to lead her generation to victory against their imperial oppressors, to take the tools he gave her and make from them a miracle, as she has made for so many others.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the end it doesn’t matter, though; he has a plan, and he will see to it that traitors to Ala Mhigo have no choice but to take up arms for their purple banner. That she will have no choice but to make proud the heritage she fails to appreciate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He will have retribution for his grief - he will see their people delivered, no matter the cost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Balancing one of Nidhogg’s eyes in each hand, he reaches out to her with all his pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not disappoint me, my child,” he tells her, before leaning back, back, back - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last thing he says before his body meets the earth is a whispered prayer that she will never hear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please set our people free.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. splinter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>splinter (v): to split into fragments, parts, or factions</p>
<p>before the fall of ala mhigo; children will be children</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Hallura, come inside! It's getting dark out!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ranya raps on the doorway of their house, anxious to get her daughter into the safety of their home. Curfew is fast approaching; the mad king's guard will be prowling the city streets soon, and then no one out of doors will be safe. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Hallura is only three, far too young to understand, and she continues to twirl about on the sidewalk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blissfully unaware of the tension in the air, Hallura giggles, saying, "Ammi, ammi, look! I'm dancing, I'm dancing!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I see, habibi</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>I see! You dance beautifully." Ranya can't help smiling, full of love for her beautiful, beautiful child. She wishes that Hallura could stay just like this; if only she could capture the happiness of this moment and preserve it forever. "Why don't you come dance inside? You can show me while your abbi prepares dinner."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura stops dancing, "But I can't go inside! There's no room!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course there is!" Ranya laughs, shaking her head. "You dance inside the house all the time! You danced on the table yesterday!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Not for me, ammi</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>for my friends! We won't all fit inside the house..." Her daughter pouts, balling up her hands into tiny fists.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Your friends, hm?" The streets are empty of other children, the only signs of life being adults hurrying home - another sign that it's time to retreat inside. Ranya guesses that Hallura must be playing with imaginary "friends" again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Bring your friends in, Hallura," she offers, holding out her hands. "Our house is big enough for them!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Not all of them!" Hallura protests, stomping one foot on the ground. "The big lady won't fit! She's too tall!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ranya frowns. This is the first she's heard of "the big lady"; she opens her mouth, ready to entertain Hallura's imaginations once more, when a distant bell tolls and cuts her off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The blood drains from her face. "Hallura, habibi</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>we need to go inside now. Come here."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"But I haven't even said goodbye!" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hallura, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We're not arguing about this." Ranya knows better than to make a grab for her daughter - Hallura is astoundingly fast for a child and would just slip out of her grasp - so she hardens her voice and holds out her hand again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For one terrible second, it almost looks like Hallura intends to argue anyways. She balls up her hands again and puffs out her cheeks, but before she can deny her mother her eyes go wide and her mouth goes slack.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ranya watches with fascination. If she didn’t know better, she would think her daughter was listening to someone tell her something - except there is no one here but the two of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hallura,” she calls, taking a small step towards her. “Come.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It feels as though time stretches out as Ranya begs for her daughter to come home. She can hear everything as she waits: the wind blowing down the streets, the slamming of windows and doors, the ominous ringing of the bells.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And then, something incredible happens; something she is sure will affect her for years.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ranya blinks - and suddenly, all around Hallura, she sees </span>
  <em>
    <span>children.</span>
  </em>
  <span> All kinds of children, lalafell and roegadyn and miqo’te, of every color and gender she can think of, silent to her ears but visibly boisterous and laughing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not sure how many there are - six, maybe seven? - but then her gaze catches on a giant, looming figure, and she looks up, up, up - </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A massive woman who must be twice Ranya’s height smiles down at the children at her feet, with long dark hair spilling out from beneath a wide hood. Another heartbeat, and the woman turns her eyes to Ranya, blinking fragments of light onto her cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With one hand, the giant woman pushes Hallura gently forward, and with the other, she lifts a single finger to her lips, hushing Ranya with a knowing grin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ranya blinks again, and the specters are gone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ammi, I’m ready to go inside.” Hallura is tugging at Ranya’s hand, defiance suddenly gone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I - yes. Let’s go, then, habibi.” She takes her daughter’s tiny hand in her own and grips it tight, leading her back inside the house and closing the door behind them. Only when the locks are in place and the bolt is lowered does she allow herself a breath of relief.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, ammi,” says Hallura after a moment. “I just wanted to play with my friends more.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She is still shaken by what she has seen, but Ranya plays it off with a chuckle. “What made you change your mind, my heart?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hallura pouts. “The giant lady said it’s not nice to fight my ammi.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The giant lady said that?” Ranya closes her eyes and recalls eyes clear as crystal, and a smile warm as the afternoon sun. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps she should be frightened for her child - the children she saw may be specters haunting Hallura, and her daughter could be an unwilling conduit for evil - but there is something about that woman’s smile that makes her believe everything will be alright.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There is nothing for Ranya to fear - not from them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You must tell me about your friends someday, habibi,” Ranya says, leaning down to pinch her daughter’s cheeks. Hallura squeals and giggles. “And one day, you must all dance for me!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All of us?” Hallura asks, raising up her arms in a request to be held. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ranya cannot deny her; she scoops up her daughter and presses a kiss to her tiny nose, touching their foreheads together. “All of you,” she promises.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>She’s not sure if she imagines it, but she thinks that somewhere in the back of her mind, someone whispers a joyful, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come say hi on tumblr! https://alamhigyoooo.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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